


i live in the thought of you

by nakimdoyu



Series: into the johnyuverse [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:49:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21757063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakimdoyu/pseuds/nakimdoyu
Summary: Johnny just wanted one more morning.
Relationships: Nakamoto Yuta/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: into the johnyuverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1464271
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	i live in the thought of you

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic i wrote on twitter on a night I was super sad.

It’s like clockwork.

6:20am and there would be buzzing in the kitchen, as the sun finds its way through the crack of dawn.

The coffee machine.

When Johnny finally gets his ass out of bed, he knows he would find the sun himself, prancing around in his kitchen.

_Their_ kitchen?

But as he walks in, the kitchen is quiet. Empty. The coffee mug steaming in the middle of the kitchen table the only indication anyone was ever there.

He takes a seat and takes the mug in between his palms, letting the heat do its thing on mornings like this.

Johnny didn’t have a firm opinion on Decembers. But he does now, he thinks.

The hand that settles on his shoulder is warm. So warm Johnny feels it through his white shirt, seeping into his skin, and right into his bloodstream.

The warmth he misses as soon as it leaves.

“Jyani, good morning!”

_His_ sun.

Yuta’s smile is so bright it’s almost blinding. Johnny feels like Icarus, except he feels more alive the closer he gets to Yuta.

The hand reaches up, fingers scratching lightly at his scalp and Johnny leans into the touch. He feels like a big cat, and he wants so badly to purr.

“Say it back!”

Johnny huffs a laugh. There’s something about Yuta and ruining moments. He isn’t going to let this one go to waste, though. So he pulls Yuta’s hand and presses his plush lips to the wrist. Yuta goes pliant right away, arms winding around Johnny and pulling his head against his chest.

This is Johnny’s favourite spot. In Yuta’s arms, under Yuta’s chin, enveloped by Yuta’s warmth. The only spot he could feel small and safe.

“Good morning, baby,” he finally says, eyes closed, taking all of Yuta in.

Every morning, without fail, Johnn would wake up the happiest man alive.

Yuta would make Johnny the happiest man alive, just like this. Even for the past three years. Even just for those few minutes before he leaves for work.

But that’s the thing. Johnny holds on to those few minutes. Because the moment he leaves, he leaves Yuta behind. The feeling of Yuta against his fingertips. The sweet smile on Yuta’s face. The way Yuta invades all of his senses.

_All_ of Yuta.

And coming back in the evening, it’s just loneliness as his company. And sometimes tears - lots of it - as he wills himself to sleep.

He dreads leaving work in the evening, works his life away so that he can finally forget. Can finally escape it all.

But if he doesn’t come home, will he get those few minutes again in the morning?

Deep down he knows he should let go. Because Yuta is not there. Hasn’t been for the past three years.

But sometimes - most of the time - he doesn’t want to. Because the last time they talked, it wasn’t talking. It was screaming and crying. It was anger and hurt.

It was an ending they never wanted.

Johnny assumes Yuta didn’t want it too.

But there’s no way he can be sure anymore. Because it’s too late, and it hurts knowing that it is. He didn’t even make it to the hospital quickly enough to see him for the last time. To admit that he was wrong. To tell the love of his life that he was sorry.

He still _is._

But does that change anything? 

“No.”

So maybe there’s nothing wrong with thinking Yuta would’ve forgiven him. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with thinking Yuta had loved him even through his last breath. 

Maybe there’s nothing wrong with wanting those few minutes again tomorrow.

Maybe he’ll try again. Try to let go.

But just one more morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. I just love entertaining my sadness.


End file.
